


I Need Both My Hands (To Hold My Own)

by wirewrappedlily



Series: With Nothing Left [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek takes care of it, Future Fic, M/M, Stiles gets stalked, established best-friendship, misconceptions are misconcieving, now with sequel!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 03:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewrappedlily/pseuds/wirewrappedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You've been locked in this apartment, scared, for days. I can smell it. What's going on?" Derek ground out, voice protectively angry. </p><p>"It's so stupid…" Stiles sobbed, covering his hands over his face in shame. </p><p>Derek reached up, taking both Stiles's wrists in one hand, hold firm but gentle as he pulled his hands away, wiping at tears with his fingertips, "Stiles," Derek was using his eyes, his completely unfair eyes that Stiles usually caved to, "it's never stupid."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Need Both My Hands (To Hold My Own)

He'd known it was a mistake to go to New York for school. He'd known and his pack had known: of all of them, he was the most immersed, the most invested. He learned everything he could about everyone and worked his ass off to include them all. Alone, he'd crash and burn and everyone knew it. 

That's why he couldn't call home now. Why he was collapsed in the hallway of his little apartment--the apartment Lydia and Derek had bought for him, smiling and supportive in a way that said they both knew he was going to fail. It wasn't like he hadn't known that moving across the country would do this to him. He was a creature of habit. He was comfortable where he was comfortable, and taking him out of his comfort zone wasn't the best idea. He couldn't have seen it coming like this, though. College had started off wonderful: he'd been in his element, the local pack welcoming of a delegate of the Hale pack and easily able to keep their distance. He'd been almost popular; friends just seemed to appear out of thin air and his social calendar almost put a strain on the schoolwork for a while there. But he had never seen Benny coming. For all his strengths; for all that he'd grown and changed and become _more_ , the reality of the situation left him young and scared again. It wasn't even a threat, really; he'd faced bigger and badder than some scrawny little farmboy following him day and night. (So why was he still panicked and on the floor in fear, his gun in his hand?)

Benny had started off being an okay friend. He'd been quiet and he'd kept separate from the rest of them, like he hadn't known where he fit in his own skin, let alone in the insane bunch of people that had attached themselves to Stiles like a shadow. He'd always...watched. Observed. Seen. Stiles had lived under scrutiny of a bunch of werewolves--he'd had almost no secrets--but this had been different. An off feeling in his chest; a new sense of the always-present gaze. Derek's had felt...determined. Not angry, per se; but like Derek had been given a charge to protect him, protect the pack, and he would stop at nothing to ensure that that he did as he'd been bound to do. This had just felt...like a cold touch of fingers down the middle of Stiles's spine, where no fingers should have been capable of reaching him. 

Stiles was a lonely kind of person, yeah. He hated being single, sure. But when Benny had asked him out, he'd let him down easy. 

Stiles had meant 'no'. Benny took it as 'try harder'. He'd appear outside of every one of Stiles's classes. He'd show up to friend-dates he had with other people and insinuate himself in. Stiles had thought it annoying, but it wasn't illegal. He had nothing to be afraid of--and he still didn't, technically--so he held his tongue. 

And then a friend of them both gave Benny Stiles's address. And Stiles hadn't set foot outside without Benny being there since. Benny would show up every few days and knock, asking Stiles out again and again, because apparently 'no' wasn't an answer. Stiles had stopped talking to half his friends--already pushed thin by Benny's ever-looming presence. 

But on every call home, the lie of 'I'm fine, dad' or 'Everything is great' came out level and calm, like he wasn't hiding in this ivory tower, trying to escape the troll. 

Stiles startled as there was a knock on the door. Three hard, violent raps. It wasn't like Benny, but maybe this was the night Benny decided to break it. 

Stiles stood, his gun in his hand and tears in his eyes, reaching for the door with the full weight of this non-threat anxiety on his chest and shoulders. He didn't know why he was scared. But he was. 

When Peter had hurt Lydia and Gerard had tortured him--when he'd leapt in the pool after Derek and had unravelled the wolfsbane-coated silver chains to fight the Alphas with...he hadn't been scared. Not like this. 

Stiles's hands were shaking as he wrenched the door open, the gun a solid weight in his palm even though the safety was on--and Derek pushed into the apartment, hand plucking the gun from his like he hadn't been able to do since the fifth time they'd trained together on this. Derek pushed against him, pulling him in, setting the gun aside while he took Stiles's weight and closed the door behind him smoothly, flicking the locks shut. He dropped a duffle bag to the ground and helped Stiles collapse to the floor, pushing his head between his knees and giving space, being careful not to trap him in while a panic attack broad-sided Stiles with the subtlety of a freight train. "Can I touch you?" Derek asked clearly, and Stiles nodded, letting Derek reel him in, hugging him tight and protectively like he had after Stiles had taken that taser-arrow to the hip that was aimed for him. Derek was good at touching; good at physical reassurance, once Stiles and he had duked it out that that was actually a part of being pack, and Derek needed to get over his hangups about letting people in to accept that. He'd made the pack; he needed to let them be a pack. Stiles had almost regretted it, because getting a hug from Jackson was just _weird_ , and Isaac would plaster himself to Stiles or Scott constantly if Stiles hadn't started carrying around a spray bottle to separate him. 

Derek hauled him into his lap like a child, supporting his weight easily with a string of gentling noises in the back of his throat. Derek didn't try to hush him at all, though. It was a safety thing, even though Stiles hadn't had a panic attack since the Alphas had tried to take his dad; that that was the only time Derek had been in this position before. 

Maybe Lydia had given him pointers after, for when his psychologically damaged pack needed it again. 

When Stiles's breathing started to get easier, Derek brought them upright, moving them into the living room and sitting them down on the couch, Stiles hugged against his side. "I'm sorry." Stiles breathed, broken and small like he hadn't let himself sound to any of them. 

"You've been locked in this apartment, scared, for days. I can smell it. What's going on?" Derek ground out, voice protectively angry. 

"It's so stupid…" Stiles sobbed, covering his hands over his face in shame. 

Derek reached up, taking both Stiles's wrists in one hand, hold firm but gentle as he pulled his hands away, wiping at tears with his fingertips, "Stiles," Derek was using his eyes, his completely unfair eyes that Stiles usually caved to, "it's never stupid." 

Derek hadn't laughed in his face when Stiles had told him that the people stabbed through with an unidentifiable cone-shaped weapon had been gored by a unicorn, all of them virgins. And Stiles had been right. So very, disturbingly, right. Stiles kept his face down, talking low and fast, spilling all of it. The fear that he had no real reason for and the helplessness he had in the face of this, because he couldn't fight a human and there were no charges to press. When he was done, Derek looked like a storm cloud, and Stiles crumpled, hiding his face, "I told you! I'm sorry--I just--" Derek's thumb pressed against the corner of his mouth as he brought his chin up, forcing him to meet those damn kaleidoscope eyes. 

"Date me." 

Stiles's eyes flew wide, his mouth falling open, but the cunning of the plan gave him pause, "You--I...You don't have to." 

Derek's lips twitched, amusement in his eyes, "I want to." He pulled Stiles in again, hugging him until Stiles could properly breathe, hugging back probably too tightly while he flew with relief; with the sensation of being safe. 

Derek heaved his duffle into Stiles's room on the unspoken acknowledgement that this would be like that week senior year that they'd both had to disappear, bunking together on a mattress in the supposedly-abandoned Hale house that Derek was painstakingly taking apart with his bare hands. Stiles had loved the following week and a half, showing up everyday to help Derek take everything out on the monument to pain and hatred and grief. They'd done the deconstruction themselves, and the reconstruction had taken the whole pack. 

As they laid down, Derek laid a hand on Stiles's back, between his shoulderblades, warm and sure and comforting. Stiles turned his head to look at him, mashing his pillow into place, "You're not alone, Stiles." Derek reassured him quietly, eyes shining in the half-light. "You never have to be alone." 

Stiles felt the weight lift off his lungs, the knot that had appeared in the middle of his chest loosening. He was safe now. He wasn't alone. 

Stiles fell asleep taking comfort in the sound of Derek's breathing. 

That week they'd been in hiding, Derek had been up and working out before Stiles had even stirred near to consciousness. Stiles woke up the next morning on Derek's chest. Derek was breathing evenly, the rhythm awake, but he had Stiles on his chest. Which Stiles really hoped was a new occurrence of sleep-hugging, though he had to figure it probably wasn't. Stiles heard pages ruffling, Derek tilting slightly under him while he put whatever book he'd been reading down. "This isn't awkward at all." Stiles groused, sleepy-voiced and stupid. 

"For one thing, I'm used to it; for another, this guy isn't a wolf, but it can't hurt for us to smell a little like each other." Stiles groaned at the first part, shaking his head in denial, which translated to nuzzling into Derek's chest. Derek chuckled, rubbing his back twice. Stiles rolled off as if it'd been a verbal request, letting Derek sit up and get up, stretching a little in the cool grey light of a New York morning. "Do you have groceries?" 

"I think I have coffee and Pop Tarts--" Stiles cut off at the look Derek shot him. 

"Get dressed, I think I remember passing a bodega, but I was a little distracted at the time." Derek ordered, sliding into his jeans and shoving his feet into his boots, not bothering to open his duffle for different clothes. Derek looked around the bedroom, glancing back down the hall to the kitchen and the little living room beyond that. "I still have the apartment Laura and I had." He admitted quietly. "When Lydia came with the idea to get you this place as a graduation gift, I almost told her that you could just move in there. I guess it's a good thing I didn't. Now we have somewhere to move to." Stiles stilled, looking at him, and Derek shrugged, "If you don't want to, that's fine, but it'll take you off his radar if he doesn't know where you live anymore." Stiles leapt over the bed, hugging Derek hard. 

"Thank you." Stiles breathed, feeling like he'd been given the governor's reprieve just by having his Alpha close. "Derek, you have no idea." 

Derek hugged him back, chuckling again. "Actually, I do. Laura was being stalked for a while while I was still going to school." 

"You totally played the big, scary older brother, didn't you?" 

"She didn't actually need me to, but yes. She could have scared him off on her own, she was an Alpha, but it was better for all involved if I did it." 

"Big, scary brother." 

"I don't know why you keep insisting I'm scary." Derek gave a rare grin as he said the words, and Stiles guffawed. 

Stiles slithered into his aged and worn red hoodie; an article of clothing that had seen blood and death and fire and destruction and managed to hold no stains. Yanking on his jeans and sneakers, Stiles grabbed up his wallet and keys, falling back into Derek's space like a moon in orbit as they headed for the door, " _You_ are the Big, Bad Wolf. Scary is in your job description!" 

Derek barked a laugh, grabbing Stiles's wrist and pulling him back from reaching for the door, cupping him up into a long, leisurely kiss that left Stiles scrabbling at any scrap of sanity or reasoning he had left. Derek smiled, the both of them still close enough to share air, lowering his mouth slowly to Stiles's ear, his stubble tickling along Stiles's cheek, "There is someone outside the door. Don't panic, breathe with me. I'm here for you, and you are safe." Stiles was completely dazed, nodding once as he reached up to touch his lips, blushing hotly. Derek opened the door, meeting Stiles's gaze as he did, a smile Stiles couldn't resist matching on his own reddened mouth. Derek appropriately stopped short as he turned attention to Benny. 

"Uh...um…" Stiles could feel the tips of his ears burning, "B-Benny! Sorry, but...uh...Derek and I were just on our way out. Derek, this is Benny. Benny, this is Derek...my boyfriend." 

Stiles was burning in a fiery pit of his embarrassment and his genetics, he could feel it. Derek just shifted closer into Stiles, their hips knocking as he grinned wolfishly, the other arm sneaking around Stiles's waist, hand on his hip. Stiles leaned in unconsciously, watching Derek grin like that and smiling softly himself, because Derek still didn't grin very often. "Nice to meet you, man." Derek muttered, friendly as anything. Stiles hadn't seen him like that since Jackson had entertained the idea of defaulting to the Alpha pack after killing Derek for his power. It was a good show. Far better than the flirt with his dad's deputy. Derek knew how to treat enemies like friends; he'd learned when he and Laura had been on the run, having to play nice with packs that weren't so kosher of two orphaned wolves running for their lives. It made Stiles ache that Derek had had to acquire that skill, even if it was serving them well. 

"Stiles didn't mention he had a boyfriend…" 

"He and I were close in Beacon Hills. Few days ago I gave up on making myself miserable by not being by his side and called him, then started driving. Didn't want to miss out." Stiles cursed even as he totally melted. He knew Derek being nice was something that actually happened. He'd watched Derek take every punch Lydia could throw (and she could throw a punch)when he hadn't forced Jackson to stay instead of leaving to 'find himself'. Derek had scoured the entire county for Stiles's mother's favourite flower, and had planted it in the Hale house's garden right next to Laura's. He'd taken three bullets that had been shot at the sheriff. Derek had stopped just single-mindedly striving for goodness and redemption when the pack had pulled together--and he still didn't like using his words; he still growled and grumped and had nearly taken Erica's head off when she'd suggested protecting Stiles from the unicorn could better be done if one of them volunteered to pop his cherry (Stiles didn't know if he could properly count that against him being nice, or for him being nice. He still had mixed feelings about the entire debacle); he still got physical when he was angry or disappointed in them instead of telling them he was feeling anything at all. But Derek had grown into a real boy. He'd let himself mourn his sister and the uncle he'd had before the fire. He remembered to stop choking on grief. 

Stiles's stomach growled lowly, a pressure in his head making the need for coffee an issue, and Derek looked down at him, making a face at Benny that said something along the lines of 'I'm sorry, but get out of my way because I'm leaving'. "Sorry to cut first impressions short, but we should really get going before genius here dies of malnutrition and gout. It was nice meeting you." Derek pickpocketed him just enough so Stiles would feel it and know it was him but sly enough for Benny not to be able to notice, shutting and locking the door behind them. Derek had them taking the stairs, leaving Benny awkwardly standing at the elevators, looking like he was about to follow them down instead of getting in the lift he'd already called. "You weren't imagining it, Stiles." Derek murmured as they started down the stairs. "He is...after you. And you shouldn't doubt your gut. You of all people shouldn't doubt your gut. He smelled...predatory. Human, but…"

"Like he'd make himself a threat?" Stiles provided. Derek nodded darkly, his features all sharp and angular with an old kind of concentration and tension. Derek reached over as they got to the ground floor, catching his wrist before slipping their hands together, leading Stiles out to the Camaro. Derek brought him against the side of the car, leaning him against it and ducking down to nuzzle against Stiles's throat for a moment, pinning him. Stiles felt Derek's bicep under the leather of his jacket, his other hand slipping helplessly into his hair. Stiles really hadn't realized the extent of the crush he'd acquired until now, and now it was just _painful_. 

Painful because Derek didn't mean any of it; didn't want anything with him. He was doing this because he was a good man and a good friend (now. And Stiles was taking full credit for having trained him). Derek raised his head enough to get his lips on Stiles's, licking his way into Stiles's mouth thoroughly, his arms wrapping around Stiles as Stiles's knees tried to give, using his bulk to bend Stiles into him, almost dipping him over his arm. The image of Derek doing that made Stiles's lips pull into a smile, and Derek responded with one of his own, the kiss ending like he was reluctant to let it go so they could grin like idiots. Derek opened the door for him, shaking his head as Stiles flashed him a movie-star grin to hide how dark his blush was. A week of awkward boners waking up with Derek half naked, flushed, and sweaty hanging off the doorframe to do chin-ups had thankfully given him some leeway over controlling his dick now, or he would have been horrified and completely unable to be in the car with the lust-scenting werewolf. Derek reached over the console, brushing his thumb over Stiles's wrist as he drove like he knew where he was going, and Stiles had to take stock of his pulse and breathing, making sure he calmed down. Derek flipped on the radio, a mixed CD Stiles had made for him slowly ambling to life. The whole CD ranged from sad, measured music with haunting vocals, lightening towards the end. It was made specifically for Derek in this car. It'd come out somewhere down the line that while Stiles loved his Jeep, Derek loved the drive. He'd bought the Camaro because he drove to think; to run on autopilot and let his mind sort itself out. Derek needed the quiet sad to face what he usually couldn't, and he used the lighter end of the spectrum to bring himself back. When Stiles had made it for him, three years previous, he'd half-expected Derek to throw it away on principle. It still made something in him relax, every time he heard it. Derek kept up an illusion of sitting in the silence of it all; soaking in whatever misery his mind dragged up in the solitude. He'd only dropped the façade with Stiles when Derek had been bleeding out, asking in a wheezing voice that Stiles _not shut up_ ; he couldn't stand the thoughts that came attached to silence any more than Stiles could. Stiles alone knew how deeply embedded a love of music was; how many books Derek's mother had read on family trips and, once, when his human father had broken a bone in his foot, when they couldn't go on their trip, how they had made a tent in the backyard so they could still 'get away'. 

Stiles knew that windchimes made Derek freeze because his mother had loved them; and his baby sister had made her some just before they'd burned. Those chimes had been half-twisted metal after the fire, but still there and tinkling when Derek had arrived to his sister's halved body in the house his family had burned in, and he'd nearly gotten lost in the rage and grief just from that. Stiles knew that Derek hadn't ever been a really happy, smiling guy; that he'd only just started healing even a little when Laura had left for Beacon Hills. One of the last things Laura had said to Derek was "I'm your Alpha, sure, but I'm also your sister, and if you don't smile again sometime soon, I'm going to punch you in the face." He knew that Derek thought Laura would've liked him. And he knew Derek still had nightmares of a fire that he wasn't there for; of a monster stealing his sister away. 

Derek held his hand in the coffee shop they stopped in, not even bothering to look at the menu posted above the machines, throwing a small smile--a quirk of lips, really--at the barista like he had been here before. From the way she coloured, he had been, and she'd remembered him. Derek rattled off his coffee order and Stiles's before Stiles could get to it himself, getting it just right and agreeing to whipped cream that Stiles usually didn't allow himself but always wanted. Derek paid smoothly before Stiles could, too, taking a small bag of baked goods that he hadn't ordered along with their coffees. Derek pushed out of the shop before Stiles could sit down, face impassive as Stiles shot him a questioning look. They drove for another few minutes before pulling into a parking structure, Derek leading the way to an absurdly decrepit building and up the graffitied and stained stairs.

"Dude, if this is your apartment, we are not living here." Stiles told him as Derek went to a pair of battered-looking double doors. 

Derek's brows raised, amusement on his features that Stiles didn't entirely trust. "Don't judge a book by its cover, genius." 

Derek didn't even unlock the door, pushing it open with a small squeaking sound and pushing his way into the pitch black beyond. Stiles, instinctually, ran in after him, finding Derek's shoulder in the dark and tensing as the door swung heavily closed behind them, a lock clicking shut. Derek chuckled in the darkness, flicking a switch, and Stiles couldn't stop the gasp. This wasn't an apartment: it was a palace. Derek laughed at the look on his face, tugging him into the apartment and switching things on easily, like it was still home. 

"Laura and I decided this would be home. They had a nice enough pack and the hunters can't be thick on the ground: the Alpha of the entirety of the five boroughs is Police Commissioner Ramsley, who, when I called about you living down here and being protected by the pack, told me that he and your dad were thick as thieves in the Academy." Derek offered a smile, and Stiles quirked his lips, still reeling. 

"This place is...Derek, why did you even stay in Beacon Hills with a place like this waiting for you?" 

Derek looked down at the stack of books sitting, waiting for him, on the coffee table, the sigh one that said that Derek didn't want to answer, but he was going to make himself, "You. Beacon Hills was insanity, Stiles. I couldn't let it get overrun." Stiles nodded once, still looking around the wide, open-concept space. "Now, you need to tell me exactly what's going on, no details left out." Derek was baiting him with his own words of once upon a time. 

"There's not much to tell that I didn't cover last night." Stiles shrugged, sitting on the comfy chair across from Derek, accepting his coffee and a pain au chocolat. "Was it the pack here that called you?" Stiles had long-since accepted his feelings would never be his own to have, and he could easily have bumped into one of the New Yorkers anywhere. 

"No. They've promised not to keep tabs or bother you--why, have they been?" Derek demanded, eyes wide. 

Stiles raised his hands, "Don't know, don't think so. I was just wondering how you knew to come." Derek got the shifty look of avoidance the question, which piqued Stiles's interest to no end, but also got him to drop the subject. "I don't know what started it--and I know...I know it was stupid of me. Coming here. It's far away, and--"

"And of all the members of the pack, Stiles, you are the one I know I don't need to worry about. You're strong, you're capable. Lord knows you're independent. You deal in magic and mayhem and things that people have nightmares about; if this guy were supernatural, you would've put him in his place tenfold and probably had a good story for Thanksgiving break." Derek told him, his expression daring Stiles to argue when he knew he was completely and entirely right. Stiles had to laugh, shaking his head. Derek reached over to him, fingers curling around his forearm and eyes steely, "Stiles, the only thing I've ever doubted about you is your ability to convincingly lie. ...And, on occasion, your sanity." The grin was blinding and sudden, and Stiles made a face at it. 

"Not my ability to shut up or the seven-year plans I have going with both Lydia and Erica, separate of each other?" 

"When it gets down to the horrible, gruesome battle between the two of them, you are so screwed." 

"Doubting my chances of surviving to old age would also be a good one." 

Derek chuckled, "That is ridiculous. You are ridiculous." Stiles shrugged, his smirk a shadow the cocky thing that it had been when he'd been a teenager standing between an injured Derek and Isaac and a deranged unicorn the de-virgined werewolves _couldn't see_. Derek's hand tightened on his forearm, his eyes flashing concern and anger in turns, "You're the only person who's ever thought you'd fail, Stiles." 

"I don't get it, Derek." 

"There's nothing to get. You know that. He's attached himself to you, and there was nothing that you did or said that started it, and nothing you could've changed that would've stopped it from happening. You aren't the problem, Stiles. Not at all." 

Stiles did know that; he'd brought his dad a stalking case when he was seventeen. Talked one of his transvestite friends into going to the police when some guy at the club had started acting like he was the real version of Edward Cullen. 

It'd ended up with Stiles between his friend and a gun, and Derek between a bullet and Stiles. Derek had a thing against firearms being in general proximity of Stiles, so it really shouldn't have surprised him that Derek had taken the gun last night. "We'll get groceries once we've gotten your stuff from your apartment."

"You need to call Alpha Ramsley, too." Derek smiled at that, nodding.

"You need to tell your dad." Derek murmured, smile disappearing as he drank, "Tell him that you're safe, I'm here to make sure nothing happens, and that you have backup." 

Stiles went quiet for a long moment, looking down at his coffee, "I couldn't tell anyone."

"I know." Derek's voice was soft and warm, his features open, "Stiles, there's no shame in being the victim, and there's definitely no shame in needing help to take care of it. Or, well, I'm told there's no shame in asking for help." Derek's mouth twisted, wry, as he shrugged and leaned back. Stiles pulled a face at him and rolled his eyes. 

"The succubus was _way_ more dangerous than Benny, Derek." 

"Probably just as horny, though." Stiles made a gagging sound, Derek smirking at it. 

"I'll call my dad," Stiles began, "but could we please keep it quiet otherwise? Lydia is my best friend and a goddess and I love her, but I think we both know she'd mock me mercilessly for needing you to take care of my problem with a measly stalker." 

"I had no intentions on telling them about Benny. I do need to tell them that I'll be staying here, though." 

Stiles looked down, playing with a fraying edge of his hoodie, "I...I can't think of a good excuse for you to use." 

Derek snorted, "You're a good enough excuse, Stiles." 

Stiles couldn't actually think of anything to say to that, subsiding into his coffee and looking around the apartment from where they sat; the vaulted ceilings with redbrick peeking through the plaster over arcing windows that had opened when Derek turned the lights on; the slats that had hidden them tucked under curtains. It was like the fortress of a secret agent. High above them, there were fire sprinklers; the chandelier hanging elegantly down wrapped with fairy lights as well. This place looked like the kind of home Stiles would've guessed Laura would want. It was light and open, splashes of colour making the room even brighter. Derek wasn't quite out of place, but it was a near thing. Derek drained his coffee and stood, taking Stiles's empty cup and offering him his hand, pulling him along to show him the rest of the apartment. A wall that hadn't been plastered at all was a massive rainbow of colour, each brick painted a different colour for the entirety of the wall; a blown up photo in the centre of a laughing Laura splashing Derek with paint in front of that wall. Derek froze beside him, looking at it with a quiet sadness that had replaced the anger over the years. 

"I'd meant to come back." Derek whispered, voice strangled. "Most of our stuff was here…at first I put it off because Beacon Hills was insane...then I couldn't because...I kept thinking about the number of times you'd yelled at me for living in the past. Knew whatever balance I'd gotten, I'd lose if I came back here to pack up this life." Stiles's hand slid into Derek's, pulling them closer slightly in support. "There're only the two bedrooms--"

"If you don't mind my sleep-hugging, I don't mind sleeping with you. You're a breathing blast furnace, but I run cold anyway." 

Derek huffed through his nose, not quite managing a laugh, but breaking the tension by trying, "It's not the sleep-hugging I mind, it's the drool." Stiles contorted his features into a mask of horror, and Derek laughed, pulling him along down the hallway. Unsurprisingly, there was a library, a workout room, and an office as well as the two bedrooms and a gorgeous bathroom. Stiles knew Derek had no money troubles; the Hales had been a wealthy family, and being the last remaining heir had meant that Derek could live like Liberache and still have enough left over to fund a small country. If they'd chosen New York as their new home, it didn't surprise Stiles at all that they would've made as good a home as possible here; hidden behind the image of a run down, abused tenement building, and locked away behind a massive metal door heavy enough that Stiles shuddered to think of shutting a finger in it. Stiles looked over the security system because Derek still had about as much tech-savvy as a goat, though his sister had been a genius if the system was anything to go by. Derek's bedroom, unsurprisingly, was deep red woods and a brown leather couch, books piled everywhere; the colours rich and dark. It felt like Derek, really, and it made Stiles feel even more safe. 

There were clothes in the closet still; a door opening to the bathroom the next door down the hall. Derek had an iPod laying, dropped and forgotten, almost under the bed. Lost in the rush of leaving for the hometown Derek hadn't wanted to go back to. Stiles crouched to pick it up, looking up at Derek sadly. Derek tossed it on the rumpled bed and walked forwards, wrapping Stiles up in a hug. There hadn't been a fixed mark when Stiles had become the one Derek confided in; the one that he'd let comfort and support him--but he was happy to be. Stiles sighed as Derek relaxed into him, breathing deeply at the base of Stiles's neck. Stiles ran his hand through Derek's black hair, over the nape of his neck and across his shoulders. 

"I still miss her." Derek choked out. 

Stiles hugged Derek tighter, anger and strength coursing through him in response to how _lost_ Derek sounded, "Just breathe, big guy." Stiles whispered, the both of them sitting on the bed as Derek cracked. 

Derek was quiet when he was in this kind of agony; he was self-contained like letting it all go would break him into so many pieces he'd never find them all again. Stiles understood the feeling, and that as much as Derek couldn't let go of him, looking at Derek now would only hurt him more, make him angry for being weak. Stiles never expected that one to change, though lord knew so much else had. He let himself be hugged until Derek had mostly stopped shaking, his few tears gone in the fabric of Stiles's hoodie, and the tracks that remained wiped away with the cuff pulled over Stiles's hand. Derek opened his mouth, the hunted look in his eyes from the days when Derek had been fuelled and kept by his rage and grief and guilt alone. 

Stiles held one finger up, "Don't you dare apologize." 

Derek rolled his eyes as he shook his head, looking around the room. 

"We don't have to stay here." 

"We should, though." 

Stiles met his gaze, nodding after a moment, "You're not alone." 

Derek leaned back in, resting his forehead against the curve of Stiles's shoulder into his neck, "Neither are you." 

Stiles and Derek loaded up the Camaro with the necessities from Stiles's apartment, Derek careful about keeping a lookout for Benny until they were headed to the bodega nearest Derek's apartment. Derek made the call to the commissioner while Stiles called his father, neither of them happy when they got through the calls. 

"He was none too pleased that you didn't contact them for help. He's going to come by to see us." 

Stiles tensed, "Should I be worried? Will he--"

"He won't attack me, Stiles, though he may want to ream you a new one for not going to the police or the pack for help." 

"My dad's 'considering' heading here. He told me he was going to call Ramsley. I didn't know how to tell him that'd already been taken care of by you without letting the wolf out of the bag." 

Derek nodded around a tiny wince, "Good choice, but that's probably not going to help your case in the long run." 

Stiles shook his head, looking more and more stressed out again by the second. "It's really more trouble than this is even worth! You shouldn't have to--"

"Stiles. You were _terrified_." Derek told him, voice deep and powerful, "You hid in that apartment, terrified, for days. You thought you were alone, and that you couldn't ask for or expect help--which is the stupidest thing I've ever seen you do, and that includes playing matador with a deranged unicorn--I do have to stay here; your dad does need to come. Commissioner Ramsley absolutely needs to come and talk to you about your safety and who's endangering it. We're doing this because you're important, and you were in danger. You _matter_ , Stilinski, and you need to get that through your goddamn head." 

Stiles snorted, looking away and huffing. "I shouldn't have left." 

Derek cornered him, ducking down and brushing his nose along the cut of his cheek, "If I'd thought for a moment that you'd feel like this, I wouldn't have let you...and you'd have fought me tooth and nail to let you go, then flourished just to prove me wrong." 

The husky, laughing quality to Derek's voice made Stiles shiver; made him want to lick his way into Derek's mouth and see what he could do to get Derek to sound like that all the time. Stiles's fingers bunched in the sleeves of Derek's henley, looking up into his eyes when Derek raised his head again, a small smirk on his lips. 

"Before the commissioner gets here, you should know that I used to work for him. There's a heavy population in New York of other supernaturals because it's so easy to go unnoticed, and in response to that, once Ramsley got into office, he set up a subdivision that works in tandem with the police force should a supernatural break the rules and go rogue. Laura and I both worked for him in that capacity. I'm telling you this because when I told him you were coming, he wanted you. You're tech and police-smart, and you've made a reputation for yourself, and the pack. He may offer again, and this time it's up to you. When I told him no, I did that to try to buy you some time without getting caught up; so you'd be able to focus on school."

Stiles raised his hand to stop him, "Derek, I'm not mad. Stop trying to convince me not to be mad. You did good." 

Derek's expression changed, easing slightly as he looked down. "I forget, sometimes, that you don't hate me anymore." 

Stiles rolled his eyes, "It wasn't hate, per se; more the foresight that you'd be the end of life as I knew it. Which, we both know I like to get stuck in my ways once I know what the hell my ways are, so I didn't think that'd be a good thing."

"Oh, I think you'd surprise yourself with how flexible you can be." Stiles's heart dropped and started galloping in his chest, his eyes going wide as Derek smirked at him, "Get your coat, we'll go for dinner." 

Stiles's heart was still beating hard as Derek opened the door to the little Korean barbeque, flashing a smile as he did. 

"So, tell me about your classes." Derek asked once they'd ordered, shaking his head minutely at Stiles using a straw in his chilled tea. 

Dinner became a two-hour affair, the two of them talking and laughing at stories about Stiles's teachers and TAs, Derek telling him about what everyone had been up to that they wouldn't tell him over the phone: a run-in with a leprechaun that didn't want to be a leprechaun; an actual supernatural poker game with kittens instead of money; Erica's run-in with a witch that left her unable to function properly, turning her life into something from an infomercial, which never ceased to amuse the others. 

"Tell me you guys just put her in a snuggie in the corner and got Lydia to un-spell her."

Derek's expression confirmed that they did just that, and Stiles's laughter was full-bodied and honest, making Derek quietly glow in pride. Derek's hand covered Stiles's on the table, his smile soft and sweet. 

"I still think you cheated with the chopsticks." Stiles grumbled as they made their way out of the barbeque, Derek swinging from holding the door open to wrapping his arm around Stiles's shoulders, laughing as he knocked a kiss into Stiles's hair like he was a sweet adorable child. Stiles settled under his arm, leaning into him as they trouped towards the apartment, stopping for ice cream and a movie before heading back to the apartment. Stiles bit his lip, glancing at the movie and up at Derek. "Do you have any copies of...of Asimov here?" 

Derek's brows rose in surprise, no doubt remembering exactly what Stiles was thinking about; Stiles's two-week hospitalization while he fought through a sickness and poison that was part magic and part biology--Derek sitting at his bedside like a disapproving sentinel, reading Asimov aloud and treating it like a punishment when it was really the best thing in Stiles's world at that point. It'd been a joke at first; Derek would tell him to read a title, and Stiles would back away from the book and everything to do with it as fast as possible. With Stiles trapped in the bed, fevered and sick and weaker than he'd ever been, even with the paralytic venom of the kanima in him, Derek had arrived one day with the novel, and told him he had no choice but to listen now. Stiles had loved every damn second. Derek smiled slowly, "I have all his novels here. I'll get one if you get the ice cream." 

Somewhere around three in the morning, Stiles fell asleep to the rise and fall of Derek's voice, leaning against his side with their ice cream bowls and hot chocolate mugs on the coffee table in front of them. He woke up in Derek's bed the next morning, his mouth less like something had died in it than it should have been. Derek must've gotten him awake enough to brush his teeth, putting him to bed afterwards. 

Stiles found him cooking in his boxers and a t-shirt, his hair still wet from a shower. "Coffee." Derek thrust the mug in his general direction, just as much against the morning as Stiles was, especially since he always woke at seven. Stiles took comfort that he wasn't the only person that was stupid and grumpy without enough sleep. 

"Thanks for getting me to bed." 

"You don't actually remember it." Derek didn't even have to ask. Stiles had had full conversations with Derek that he'd never remembered; he was a remarkably functional human being when he was still actually asleep. 

"Nope." 

Derek grunted, serving up omelettes and grabbing the toast as it popped. Stiles buttered his absently, smiling at the eggs with blank eyes. "They'll be here in five hours." 

"Both--?"

"Yes."

"Damn." Stiles followed Derek absentmindedly to the couch, sitting close when Derek tugged him down. Stiles leaned his head on Derek's shoulder, half-tempted to ignore his starvation and the utterly gorgeous food in front of him in order to sleep on Derek's shoulder again. It was a comfortable shoulder for being etched out of diamonds. "Did I drool on you again?" 

"Yep." 

"Sorry, man." 

Derek shrugged, and they ate in silence, Stiles moaning at the food. Derek had mad skills with breakfast and all its forms. He couldn’t cook anything else to save his wolfy soul, but breakfast was Derek's forte. 

"You're not fair." Stiles whined. 

Derek snorted, shaking his head, "That is not the first time you've said that." 

"Nor will it be the last, I'm sure." Stiles moaned again as he finished his food and took a long drag of his coffee, "Do we really need to be functioning humans? We could hide." 

"No, we really can't." Derek's voice was amused, the both of them knowing full well it wasn't going to happen. 

Stiles groaned anyway, flopping more fully on Derek. "Spoilsport." 

Stiles showered, getting dressed morosely. Derek let him be, an unspoken agreement that Stiles wasn't up to being overly happy, and Derek wouldn't do anything to force it. 

Stiles found him lurking outside of the only room Derek didn't show him--Laura's--and his heart squeezed, "Dad's not intending on staying here with us. He'll be in my apartment." _Get away from the door. You don't have to do this._

It was Derek's turn to look as though Stiles had been his governor's pardon, and they walked into the living room again silently, sitting together on the couch, both antsy and nervous even while Derek read. "It's going to be fine." Derek murmured as they pulled on their boots and coats to go pick the sheriff up from the airport. 

"It just...pisses me off." 

Derek dragged Stiles under his arm, "I'm glad it's you that's having trouble. I'd rather not see what Lydia would do, and I know what Erica would do and _the thought of it frightens me_. Scott wouldn't notice, Danny's friends would probably beat the bastard up before he needed to notice, Boyd would make him disappear--"

"And I just force our Alpha to play house with me." Derek scowled at the wording, but didn't say anything. "And, of all the prospects, I think I like Boyd and Danny's far, far more." 

Derek's face spoke of not liking his thoughts, "Maybe it was time." 

Stiles didn't like Derek's thoughts, either. Stiles let Derek take his hand, intertwining their fingers as Derek led them down to the car. He'd been a security blanket to the four-legged bipeds for years, he knew when contact was necessary. 

Derek drove to the airport with nothing but the music between them, detouring into a café before the passengers started to spill out of the arrivals terminal. Stiles took the coffee meant for him, bickering easily about who needed to suck up more to Stiles's father until said father emerged looking tired and weary. Stiles pulled him into a hug and sneakily took his bags, hissing at Derek when he moved to take them from him after he'd given the sheriff the coffee. The sheriff shot them both a look, eyebrows raised. "Well, you're definitely still human, because wolves don't hiss." 

Neither of them mentioned there was an entire spectrum of feline weres; both of them started talking at once about the take out they could order--and both of them immediately realized that neither of them thought to sort out what apartment they were convening in. The sheriff stood between them, laughing and shaking his head as Derek tried to convey something with his eyebrows and Stiles just shot him a look that Lydia had taught him that basically said 'Bitch, please'. 

"Where does Jeff expect to meet us?" The sheriff cuts in before Stiles can do something incredibly stupid, like challenge Derek to an arm-wrestle (that happened once, there was pixie dust involved and that shit gets werewolves really, really stoned). 

Derek's mouth opened smirking and closed glowering. Stiles wins. "Mine." Stiles interpreted, smiling. Warmth bloomed in his chest at the prospect that that _fortress_ of an apartment that not even the land's Alpha knew about would've been opened to his father and the commissioner on his behalf, and Stiles knew by the shift in Derek's expression that his face was wearing his thanks. Derek shrugged minutely, and Stiles tried and failed to completely squash his smile, stepping close and leading the way out of the airport to the car. 

Stiles called for the healthiest take out he could think of, Derek and the sheriff discussing the state of things in Beacon Hills. "I hate that it's this, but I'm really happy to see you, Stiles. I missed you, kid." 

"I missed you, too, Dad." Stiles replied, choked. Derek stared at his hands for a long moment before looking up to meet Stiles's eyes. Stiles swallowed, scratching absently at the sleeve of his shirt. 

"You're fidgeting. What is it?" Derek asked in the middle of the sheriff's story of something he and the commissioner had gotten up to as rookies five minutes later. 

"I just...something feels off. Derek, are you sure--?" Stiles cut himself off, staring at Derek with the message clear in his eyes. 

"Could this guy be supernatural? Is he? Is that why you knew to come?" The sheriff demanded, protective instinct coming off him in waves. 

"No. It's just...Derek's on another pack's land right now, and I'd really rather he not get shot at or mauled because of me--" Derek's hand reached over, curling around Stiles's crossed forearms, his gaze steady. 

"You're pack--not only that, you're _valuable_. They may not like my being here, but they'll have to deal with it, without contestation, because I'm not leaving you alone when you need me here." 

Stiles took a deep breath, keeping Derek's gaze as he nodded. "I trust you." 

"Derek, you're acting as body guard?" 

"Yes, sir. It'll be tricky to swing it in the school itself, but I'll figure it out." 

Stiles held up a staying hand when the sheriff turned to him, "We wait for the commissioner, and then we go through the plan." There was a knock on the door, and Stiles jerked, Derek's hand bracing his chest before he could topple off his chair, "Who is it?" 

"Benny." Derek growled. 

The sheriff looked like he was about to growl, too, half-standing before Stiles could flail at him close enough to force sitting again, "Derek, is it safe?" 

Derek nodded once, gritting his teeth and standing up. Stiles sprung to his feet and pushed his chest once to tell him to sit his ass back down. Stiles shot both of them looks, going to his own damn door. 

Derek pinned him against the wall once they were out of eyesight of his father, his eyes hard and angry, and this was a return of something Stiles hadn't seen in so long it was almost making him nostalgic. Derek kissed him hard and deep and dirty, arms wrapping around his back and pressing him into the sweltering heat of his body. Stiles wanted to whimper and moan and beg, pretty sure his ears were ringing and his head and gone light. "Stop being scared of him, Stiles. He's just a boy; a child compared to you, and I will never let him hurt you. _Calm down_." The last was brushed against his lips as Derek lifted him into another devastating kiss. 

Stiles let himself rest into Derek, knowing that Derek sighing against his hair was a way to scent him, as if the reddened lips and flushed-hot cheeks wouldn't get the point across just as readily. He felt his heart misbehaving in his chest, but he was calming, pushing gently away from the wall and meeting Derek's eyes, "Go sit with my dad. ...If I panic--"

"I'll be at your side in a heartbeat." Derek muttered, leaning in and brushing his lips over Stiles's forehead once, scenting him again probably, before he huffed and walked back down the hall. 

Stiles pulled the door open, knowing the picture he painted. "Benny! Is there something I can help you with?" 

"Why him?!" Benny demanded, slurring his words. He swayed, face red and eyes glassy. Benny punched into the door, knocking it into Stiles's chest and shoulder where he had it braced against his body, and he held up a finger threateningly, "You coulda been mine--"

"Benny, that is enough. Leave." Stiles snapped with the entirety of his ire and fear and frustration burning in his voice, feeling Derek more than hearing him. Derek's hand closed around his shoulder, and Stiles leaned into him, a statement and a comfort. Derek took the door from Stiles's grip, and closed firm and loud, turning Stiles with his other hand and pulling him in. "I'm not gonna." Stiles breathed, laying his head against Derek's shoulder. He wasn't going to have a panic attack, he was completely sure about that, but it was fucking fantastic that he could melt into Derek's front for a moment, "You've gotten really good at hugs." 

"I could cite Isaac, but I'm pretty sure you'd kill me." Derek chuckled into his hair. He pulled Stiles away from the door, slowly disengaging as they walked back into the kitchen, Stiles still flushed with anger (and that damn _kiss_ ) and Derek's features reaching hurricane levels of storm, all trace of humour gone. 

"He's escalating." 

"If he continues to escalate...we'll end up able to press charges." Stiles muttered in agreement of what his dad wasn't saying. After just two days of touching Derek freely, Stiles wanted to lean into his side now. Even if it didn't mean what Stiles wished it would; Derek was a solid, immovable presence, and he was there to protect him; a miracle that would feed Stiles's crush for weeks once this was all brushed aside. Under the table, Derek's hand slipped over then around his, Stiles relaxing the same way he'd seen the wolves relax when Derek touched them. Stiles had stopped letting it freak him out around the same time he refused to question why they relaxed under his touch, too. "We should probably set up some sort of security cameras in here…" 

The sheriff fixed Stiles with a steely gaze, his face lined with his sternness, but gentle still. "I'm not going to be in that much danger, Stiles--" 

"Dad, you shouldn't be here." Stiles was not above tossing in the word 'jurisdiction', but Derek tensed beside him, slipping their hands apart after a reassuring squeeze and walking to the door silently. Stiles listened, and when Derek didn't immediately open it, he knew it was their food; Derek was waiting for the knock. Stiles's lips twitched, remembering how that particular lesson had been driven home. "Derek and I could've easily handled it. We've handled much, much worse, as he's so keenly pointed out; I could've handled it on my own, I've just...lost my rhythm. It's hard being so far away from my family." 

The sheriff gave him a look, reaching over to rest his hand against Stiles's arm, "I know that you're an adult now. You've been an adult for longer than I've ever wanted to admit. But that's exactly why I'm here, Stiles. I didn't have half the close relationships you do, and it was hard for me, all those eons ago." Stiles snorted, but he felt fragile. Like he was a child again, knees scraped, and his dad was picking him up and carrying him to bandaids and kisses better. "You're the toughest kid I know, and considering the crowd you run with, that's saying something." 

Derek came from the door carrying the take out and trailing an older man with a bushy mustache and kind-but-assessing eyes. Stiles was frankly shocked the Alpha of New York City was coming on his own to meet another Alpha--but then, this man could probably put down Derek in under a minute, so maybe it wasn't so surprising he was pointing that out. Commissioner Jeff Ramsley smiled at Stiles and beamed at his father, the two of them embracing like old friends as Stiles carefully catalogued Derek's entire manner in order to sort out what to do here. "It's good to see you, though not like this. When young Derek here called me about your boy being in trouble, I was furious." 

"Derek called you?" 

Jeff's joviality shifted, looking from Stiles to Derek expectantly, "They didn't tell you--"

"We usually approach it that if the secret isn't ours, we're not going to assume its owner would be as okay with it spilled as we would be." Stiles filled in hesitantly. 

"I'm a werewolf, Caleb. I'm the Alpha of the five boroughs." Jeff told the sheriff gently, "Derek called me when your boy was accepted here about him coming, and the only thing that kept me away was Alpha Hale's express wishes he not be disturbed by the supernatural here." 

"That...that explains really much more than I ever wanted explained." The sheriff sighed heavily, sitting down. Stiles shook the Alpha's hand, his demeanour back to being bright as he introduced himself by his first name. 

"I was horrified when Laura died. Even more so that it was after the fact when I heard; that you'd already avenged her. Laura and I were friends, and I'd like to extend that friendship to you, Derek; if you need our help, all you need do is ask." Jeff's smile became wily as he looked at Stiles, "Though I daresay that you've managed to find a miracleworker. You two are getting to be world-renown, did you know that?" 

"We weren't aware." Derek answered simply, his expression polite but distant. Stiles's fingers slipped into his under the table, squeezing gently. "I'd think we'd keep anonymity, we're so isolated." 

"Ah, but a human in the pack taking down Alphas? A unicorn? It's unheard of, unprecedented. There have been packs in the past making noise about how wrong it is to have humans in the pack at all, but Stiles has proved them all very, very wrong." 

Stiles froze, his eyes flying wide. He heard what it was that the commissioner wasn't saying, and he coloured at the implication it brought forth. He'd had no idea he'd been so protected. "Thank you, sir." 

Jeff watched in amusement as realization dawned for Derek as well, his demeanour getting colder as if he were jealous of anyone else protecting Stiles. "Thank you." He echoed, voice gruff but sincere. 

"New Alphas need help, Derek; I knew that to protect you was to protect Beacon Hills, and its citizens. My best friend happens to be the sheriff of Beacon Hills, after all." Stiles's father was shaking his head and laughing, Jeff looking mischievous, "When you told me the name of your legendary human was Stiles Stilinski, I nearly had a coronary." 

"His name is still safe?" The sheriff clarified, leaning forwards into the conversation.

"Absolutely. Right now...he's known as Little Red." Jeff was laughing, and Stiles couldn't help but crack up, too; laughing mainly at Derek. 

"Sorry...he hates that hoodie." Stiles managed after a moment, the laughter dying down a little, though he was still bright with amusement and mischief. 

"It's the hoodie you're usually wearing when you get shot at, attacked, trapped, or threatened. You'd hate it, too." 

"I don't hate your leather jacket, I just mock it mercilessly!" Jeff laughed at them both, and the sheriff started chuckling, shaking his head. By the time the meal was through, it was as if they'd all been with each other for a long, long time. 

Stiles watched Jeff's interactions with his father carefully, something pulling at the back of his mind as he saw the way the Alpha smiled at the sheriff in a different way than he did with either Derek or Stiles. Derek's hand and Stiles's were wrapped up together under the table, Derek leaned back in his chair and at ease. Stiles always loved that. After the truth about wolves had come out, Derek had relaxed around his father; had taken to completely being at ease in the sheriff's presence more than with anyone other than pack. Stiles knew that the sheriff wasn't pack, and he couldn't be; the sheriff was an Alpha in his own right. 

"We could spare a few security cameras for the hall. Though I agree with Stiles, Caleb; you shouldn't be living here." The sheriff opened his mouth to protest, and Jeff shot him a look, "No, Caleb. You can stay with me for the duration of your visit, if that's alright with the boys." 

Stiles's first instinct was to insist that it wouldn't be a problem to put his father up, but something stopped him. The warm, fond look in his father's eyes as he looked at his old friend. Stiles gripped Derek's hand so hard bones were probably rubbing together, stopping him from doing exactly what Stiles had almost done so that he could reply himself, "If it's not too much trouble, I'd appreciate it." 

"And you two are staying in the Hale fortress?" Jeff confirmed. Stiles nodded, and a kind look flashed over Jeff's features. "Derek, before we all split up, I need to discuss something with you." 

Stiles and his father started moving at the same time, "And that is our cue to do dishes loudly in the other room." Jeff laughed, nodding as the sheriff playfully bumped his shoulder in passing. Stiles and Derek shared a look, though what they were saying to each other, Stiles refused to let himself think about; refused to let himself translate beyond a sense of safety and comfort, that they'd be alright. 

"Derek's a good man, son." The sheriff said, his voice expressing that, yes, while there were two werewolves with super hearing out there, they were going to have this conversation in glaringly obvious code anyway. 

"So is the commissioner, dad." Stiles laughed at his father's change in expression, shaking his head. Stiles packed away the few leftovers there were into a shopping bag to take back to Derek's, cheersing his father with a fortune cookie while they waited for the summit in the dining room to draw to a close. "How did you and mom meet?" Stiles asked quietly, so low and tight that he half-thought his father wouldn't hear him. 

The sheriff froze, turning his head to look at his son where he was perched on the counter, legs dangling. Taking a deep breath, the sheriff's mouth tightened into a straight line. "She was studying mythology at the university, and Jeff and I were chasing after a minor drug dealer through the campus. I crashed into her accidentally and she fell over, scraped herself up. So I went back once Jeff had the guy collared...I took her to the nurse by coercion, wouldn't let her leave until she went and made sure she was alright. And then...she glared at me, like I was the most troublesome thing on the planet, and demanded I take her to dinner if I was going to push her around like that. She never let me push her around again." 

Stiles hopped off the counter and pulled his dad into a hug, the both of them a little choked up in the moment. 

Stiles knew that Derek and Jeff were actually waiting on them now, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. 

They walked out together, the werewolves waiting for them not giving away that they'd heard anything at all, Derek the calmest and most at ease with another Alpha than Stiles had ever seen him. A car pulled up for the commissioner, the driver taking the sheriff's things from Derek while Stiles and his father parted ways, Stiles and the commissioner bartering for times and tourist traps loosely. Stiles smiled at him honestly, nodding his head as he looked meaningfully between them, conveying all he needed to. Derek slung his arm around Stiles and pulled him close as the car drove away, turning them from the bustle and traffic towards where they'd parked. Derek kissed his temple, pulling him close and hugging solidly, "Do you think I'm going to get a new daddy? 'Cause that was totally the vibe I picked up on there." 

Derek chuckled, "Jeff wanted to tell me a cautionary tale about how he'd let his mate slip through his fingers. It hadn't been the right time for them; and then he'd watched his mate get married, and have a child, and be happy." 

"But these things are cosmic…" Stiles breathed, "so his mate couldn't stay happy without him." 

"Hey--Stiles, no. That's not how it works, and you know it." 

"Yeah, I know that's not how it's meant to work, but it doesn't mean it doesn't end up that way sometimes--it's not his fault she's dead; it's no one's fault...but some things are harder to fight than others. Anyway, I intend on threatening him that if he hurts my father--"

"I'll rip his throat out with my teeth." Derek laughed in agreement, taking the words out of his mouth. They both knew that there were marginally better odds on the older Alpha, but Stiles in anyone's corner made the underdog look like a sure thing. 

The drive to Derek's apartment was silent, Stiles leaned back in his seat, angled away from Derek and lazily sprawled over the leather seat while his finger's and Derek's tangled over the gearshift. The lights of the city passed by Stiles's window in a hypnotizing rhythm with the traffic of the city. Derek was driving for the sake of driving, sharing the time he left for the solitude of his mind and whatever he needed to work through with Stiles, giving him a taste of what it was like for him. Stiles squeezed Derek's fingers gently in recognition and thanks, staying silent and comfortable. It felt like Derek would be able to read everything he had to say in that moment just from being near him. He'd never felt like that before. Derek pulled into the parking garage eventually, Stiles letting out a soft sigh as he looked over at Derek, warm and fond. "Thank you." 

Derek tightened his fingers for a moment before letting go, climbing out of the car and waiting to walk beside Stiles through the insufficient lighting, "Are you okay with it?" 

Stiles sighed quietly, shrugging, "I want him to be happy. He hasn't been happy in so long, Derek. If Jeff can do that, I don't care. He won't be my mom, and we both know it, but he can be the reason my dad starts smiling again." 

Derek stopped him, turning him around on the decrepit stairs, "Stiles, you do make him happy, you know." 

"I was a lying failure of a son for too long, Derek. I wasn't making anyone happy. Including me. Possibly especially me." Stiles stared at Derek for a long, long moment, feeling the tightness in his heart and in his throat, the memories of their discontent; at Derek being angry and reckless and misguided...at how Stiles had hated him. He'd hated him for a long time. But he'd also kind of loved him then, too--it'd made him leap into the pool and it'd kept him from saying a thing about Gerard...he'd been drawn the most infuriating and horrible person in his life, like a moth to the flame. And now he was really in love with him, and Derek could never find out. Never know that Stiles, who'd pushed and pulled and yanked and charged at him for years until he was stable--until they were stable--had gone past being a friend. Stiles had no doubt that it'd be the end of it all the moment he knew: Why on earth would Derek Hale ever want him? Stiles couldn't even dare to hope, because it just wasn't possible. 

Stiles knew Derek's secrets. If he wanted to keep them--keep the trust that had brought them--he'd never be able to tell Derek he loved him. Derek shot him a look in lieu of argument, and then kept walking. 

"Did Jeff offer you your job back?" Derek froze, turning slow with an incredulous look. Stiles laughed at him, "We're a package deal; he wants me, he'll go through you, because I'm not going to let you risk your ass without me for backup. Plus, I'm betting you were good at what you did." Derek shrugged in a way Stiles took to mean 'yes'. 

Derek made the warm milk drink his father used to make them on colder winter nights, adding in a little whiskey to make extra sure Stiles would pass out upon consumption, not bothering to say a word as Stiles turned on some music, sitting on the couch and leaning his head back tiredly. Derek pulled Stiles's legs over onto his lap, one hand curling on his calf, the mug of warm milk resting against his shin. "The pack's settled back in Beacon Hills...I'm tempted to accept the job until you're done school...to stay here until you're ready to go back…" Derek shrugged, looking down at his hand curled around Stiles's calf and slipping it down to his ankle, squeezing, "it's up to you. This is your college experience, I wanted to give you this when you left, I won't wreck it by accepting and getting in your way." 

"Hey--hey...Derek, fuck, man. No. You're not wrecking a damn thing, okay? I...I've been miserable here. Even before the whole Benny thing, this place--this place is so big and, yeah, I know a few supernaturals, but I've missed you guys so damn much." Stiles thoroughly congratulated himself for keeping ahold of his tongue and managing to qualify 'you guys' instead of the far more accurate 'you'. He braced himself, because he'd end up getting hurt hiding his feelings with Derek right there at his side, "Stay." 

Derek's eyes were soft, a smile tugging at his mouth as he 'woof'ed softly, demurely taking a drink as Stiles snorted, rolling his eyes. 

Stiles knocked his knee against Derek's shoulder, shaking his head, "I didn't mean like that, Kujo." 

"Hey--I, at least, come when you call. And occasionally when you don't. Scott makes the single worst Lassie in the history of Lassies." 

Stiles's laughter filled the apartment, his body curling up to hug Derek awkwardly around the shoulders with his legs still on Derek's lap. Stiles rested his chin on Derek's arm, Derek leaning his head against Stiles's playfully. "I made a mistake coming here." 

"You keep saying that." 

"'S true." Derek leaned out of his embrace, rearranging them slightly and pulling him back in at a better angle, "I shouldn't have left." 

"You needed to." 

"No, I didn't. I had all the friends and love and support I needed back in Beacon Hills...I had Lydia and Scott and Isaac and you. I didn't actually need to leave." 

"If you hadn't left, you'd still be running around after the feature creature instead of doing things that college kids are meant to be doing." 

"Yeah, but I was happy chasing after you, feature creature." Stiles grinned, sharp and teasing, but tempered it with a sigh. 

"If I stay, I'm sure you'll have me chasing after you a lot, too." Derek consoled teasingly, taking Stiles's drained mug and setting it down. Stiles slowly got up and padded for the bathroom, tired and slightly headachy. He changed and got ready for bed quietly, slipping into the room as Derek was pulling off his shirt. Stiles stared, but it wasn't because he was beautiful--well, not just because he was beautiful. 

Stiles had seen Derek torn to shreds. He'd shoved bones back into his body and pulled splinters of glass from skin that was trying to heal around them. The fact that Derek didn't carry a single scar actually horrified Stiles a little. Derek had suffered a lot of pain, and there wasn't a thing to show for it but their continuing survival. Anyone who looked at him that wasn't one of them wouldn't know that he'd been mauled and savaged, beaten time and again and left to bleed out more than once. They wouldn't know about the poison that Stiles had helped draw out of his system more than once, or the times he's thrown himself on the sword headed for one of his pack. Derek was beautiful, sure. But it shouldn't ever just be seen. Derek caught his eye, looking concerned, and Stiles shook his head jerkily. "Just...thinking about how you don't have any scars." Stiles swallowed, looking down and away. The next thing he knew, Derek was wrapping his arms around Stiles, his naked skin hot to the touch. Stiles wrapped around him reflexively, his hands on smooth skin and hard muscles as he brushed too lightly over Derek's back, fisting his hands against Derek's shoulders. Stiles tucked his forehead against Derek's shoulder when Derek showed no sign of letting go. It was tender and intimate and not at all what Stiles should ever let himself have if he wanted to remain sane in the insanity that was this desperately, horrifyingly fast fall he was getting himself into for Derek Hale. Derek's hands tightened on his hips for a moment, but instead of disengaging, he drew him closer, a small whine in the back of his throat at the scent of hurt pouring off of Stiles's skin. 

Stiles swallowed again, Derek's fingers sliding under the hem of his shirt and tugging it off before he could protest. Derek looked at him, pensive and dark, his eyes angry at himself, his mouth a tight line. He looked over the scars littering Stiles's skin, swallowing thickly himself, a look of self-disgust in his eyes. "You shouldn't have any of these." 

Stiles snorted, "I was accident-prone long before the supernatural dropped into my lap. Some of these have nothing to do with anything that goes bump in the night." 

Derek had a hard, angry challenge in his eye, his jaw still set in marble and lips pressed thin. Stiles snorted, slipping his shirt back on and biting back a number of comments that his safety isn't a concern when it comes to bumps in the night, knowing that the line Derek's walking between who he's become and who he used to be was perilously thin when it came to his safety. Derek caught his jaw, forcing him to meet Derek's gaze. The action drew Stiles up, his chin lifting and shoulders straightening in defiance. He'd stand tall and stand his ground. 

"I've saved you before, and I'll do it again. I'm not a delicate little flower, and I may not be a hard-wearing werewolf, but you're not going to push me out; you couldn't then, and you never will. This is my choice, you Alpha jackass." 

Derek's eyes flashed for a second. Rage, argument, frustration, denial, determination--and then amusement. He snorted through his nose, his kaleidoscope eyes falling shut for a minute as he shook his head. "You're infuriating." 

Stiles barked a laugh, "Pot, kettle." 

Derek shook his head, moving past him for the bathroom, Stiles sliding into bed and curling up, expecting not to fall asleep. 

He was unconscious before Derek even wet his toothbrush. 

Derek and Stiles fell into a routine after that. Derek would pick Stiles up from classes, appear during his free periods--only sometimes with something the commissioner had him investigating--and the act was pulled off far too well for Stiles's emotional wellbeing. 

He knew that he was scaring Derek whenever he thought about the damage this would do when it ended and sent a wave of aerosolized fear and pain straight into the werewolf's senses, but for every time Derek kissed him, pulled him close and scented him...Stiles would trade everything he was for another, for more. It was so self-destructive he honestly questioned himself, but there wasn't anything for it. He was going to destroy himself, and he couldn't bring himself to care. Benny still stared at him, still shadowed him from a distance--and if it hadn't been for those first few years of Derek's stalking tendencies, Stiles never would have known that there were eyes on him. 

Derek was checking up on Stiles's apartment, Stiles cleaning with the volume turned loud on the stereo. He was not ashamed to admit he was dancing, though calling it dancing could be generous. Stiles didn't even hear Derek as he came in, though a minute and a half later when Derek finally cracked and burst into laughter, he managed not to scream as he jumped six feet in the air and promptly tumbled to the floor clutching his chest. 

"Oh, my god! You are a very bad man! Bad bad bad!" 

Derek smirked down at him, "You sound like a three-year-old." 

"You look like a douche bag." 

Derek shook his head once, heaving Stiles upright with one arm, "No. _Jackson_ looks like a douchebag. And I did try to talk to you. Twice."

Stiles looked from the paused stereo to Derek, "I was singing along after the music stopped and hadn't realized you'd turned it off, wasn't I?"

"Yep. Next time, put your phone on vibrate so you don't pull a Scott? He broke into the apartment." 

"Oh, god! Was he there?!" Stiles grabbed Derek's arms, eyes roving reflexively for bullet holes in clothing, though no wound would be seen. Derek caught both his wrists into one hand, making a soothing noise. 

"No, no. I could smell him, and he's not as good at picking locks as either of us." 

Stiles shook his head, "What is the youth of America coming to?" 

Derek narrowed his eyes. "Did you just call us both old?"

"I've seen that old swim team photo of you, Derek, you only get better as you age." Stiles did a double-take because Derek Hale was blushing slightly, though he wouldn't meet Stiles's eye. "He should show up on the video, then, and we can have him arrested for breaking and entering, right?" 

"He wasn't the only one there." Derek's voice had gotten lower, deeper, and heavier. Taking Stiles's arms, Derek moved them to the couch, sitting on the coffee table with Stiles on the cushions, his features dark, "I don't know what it is, but he doesn't smell completely human anymore. And not completely inhuman, either." 

"What'd it smell like?"

Derek made a face at the memory, "Vinegar and curdled milk. It was sour and disgusting, I don't think there's any other point of context." 

"Any Spidey senses go off?" 

"Just that somewhere you were supposed to be safe in _wasn't_." Derek growled, his eyes saying things Stiles didn't want to understand. Stiles nodded, because he understood anyway, reaching to tangle his fingers around Derek's. 

"I'm safe here. I'm back in your territory, safe and sound." Derek still didn't look pleased, but he slid his hands until he could hold onto Stiles in return. "Derek, if this had happened without anything that happened in Beacon Hills, I'd be alone here, defenseless and scared." 

Derek's features changed there, shifting from horror to anger to stubbornness. 

"You're not going to let him hurt me. I trust you." Stiles whispered. "We need to sort out what's with him, though." 

Derek shook his head, "No, not you. I know you, I know you're going to go behind my back and research it anyway, four years of watching it happen has taught me that much, but this time it's not me saying it. Jeff's put this under his jurisdiction, and he's catching too much heat already with us working the little bit we have been." 

Stiles nodded for a moment before he started shaking his head, "We need to be prepared, Derek. When have we ever been given a break to let someone else save the day--without it being one of us riding in on a white steed to save the other?" 

Derek smirked slowly, shrugging, "Can't say I didn't try." 

Stiles laughed, "Nice. Disclaimers abound." Derek leaned forwards, bumping his nose against Stiles's temple. 

"If I really wanted to keep you from researching this, I wouldn't have told you I smelt anything past that bastard's body spray." Stiles shook his head fondly as Derek got up and walked over to the kitchen, "Breakfast for dinner?" 

"That is a wonderful idea." 

Five hours later, Stiles's hands were knocked away from his aching neck, Derek's warm and strong as he worked on the tension, reading over Stiles's shoulder what he'd managed to rule out and deem possible from what he could take on Derek not knowing the scent and how closely related other things were to the scent Derek had been able to pick up. "This is like looking for a needle in a bunch of other needles, isn't it?" 

"Yes, yes it is. You have very nice hands, so if you don't stop now I will end up unconscious." Stiles moaned pitifully as Derek pulled him slightly forward and swept further down his back in slow, sure strokes. 

Derek petered off, lower his mouth down and murmuring, "Go get ready for bed, genius." Stiles obeyed, Derek helping him up and steadying him as aches and pins and needles made themselves known from having sat in one place for too long. Stiles climbed arduously into bed and collapsed on his stomach, humming questioningly as Derek came to stand next to the bed, "Take off your shirt." 

The order was gentle, an offer behind the words, and Stiles couldn't convince himself to turn Derek down on a back massage. Derek had had an interest in being a sports doctor before Kate, and he'd learned how to properly give a massage when he'd had such a sudden and complete growth spurt that he ended up in pain for months from the strain, the wolf unable to heal it. Stiles had none of the same problems with his muscles that Derek had had, but it still felt fantastic. Stiles fell asleep to the feeling of Derek's fingers pressing into his skin, sleeping in the curve of Derek's body, half-under him and cuddled up into the warmth, and dreaming of Derek's lips kissing down his spine. 

The next day, Benny isn't there when Stiles gets out of class, and the only reason Stiles could tell this was because of the knife-edge look in Derek's eyes, "I'm skipping the rest of the day, aren't I?" Derek nodded curtly, Stiles slipping into him like he belonged there and moving as if it were perfectly natural to them to walk so close they were almost intertwined. Derek's eyes scanned through the crowd over and over, his nostrils flaring every other breath as he scented the air, "Any hint of our mystery character?" Derek shook his head once, his hand low on Stiles's back. 

"Your father and Jeff are outside waiting in a car. Jeff was attacked today, by the same thing I smelled in the apartment. We still don't know what that is, but this isn't boding well." The barista from the coffee shop Derek had first taken him to nodded to Derek on her way inside the building with a man Stiles knew wasn't human, "That's Mirari. She's an empath, powerful enough that she can pick up on the thoughts behind the emotions she senses." 

"That's dangerous! Tell me she's not going in there to hunt Benny!" 

"She won't be the one doing the hunting, Jon and I will. Take your dad and Jeff to the apartment, and keep your phone on and close." 

"One ring every five minutes?" Stiles confirmed the plan, and Derek nodded solemnly, "Be careful." Derek stopped him from getting in the car, pulling him in and kissing him hot and sweet, resting their foreheads together. 

"Be safe." Derek opened the door and levered him in in one movement, disappearing back into the bustle of students. Stiles let himself go when his dad pulled him over, leaning back against the seatback and looking to Jeff. The older man nodded that he was alright in silent response to the silent question, the sheriff doing the same when his son's amber eyes turned on him. Stiles gave directions in a dull voice, and hoped that things would be over fast. 

He needed to stop living in hope. 

~

Stiles remembered catching a glimpse of the driver in the rear view mirror and he'd known in that second that they were all screwed. Benny had been the one driving, the cologne he'd been wearing making Stiles gag, though Jeff seemed to be able to stand it--hell, he'd probably had to stand worse, being in politics. 

The car crash had been catastrophic, but Jeff had gotten his body around the sheriff as much as possible, shielding him from the damage, and Benny had been well enough to be able to get out of the car and drag Stiles out with him; had been well enough to flee the scene with 180 pounds of pale skin and lean muscle half-unconscious. There'd been another car, and then there'd been a dirty, freezing cold room--gunfire tearing through the structure they were in and a half-crazed Alpha using Benny's far more breakable Beta body to smash the door to the room they'd stashed Stiles in. Benny had gotten mixed up in werewolves somehow, since the last time they'd seen each other. Benny slumped brokenly to the floor, Derek's hand covered in blood from where he'd gripped hard enough to spear bone through flesh as he strode towards Stiles like a dying man to water. Stiles could feel it was probably bad, but Derek didn't seem hurt, and for that he was happy. "If I pass out again, do I have much of a chance of waking up?" 

Derek crouched down, his hands unsurely raised towards him. 

"Take enough of my pain to move me, or I'll pass out either way." Stiles told him, or thought he did. 

Derek laid his hand carefully on Stiles's arm, the black veins of drawing pain away running up his arm. Derek hissed as he carefully felt what was broken before lifting Stiles out of the room, carrying him out of the room. 

Stiles fell unconscious anyway. 

Waking up didn't hurt as much as it should have, even with the good drugs, and Stiles knew that that was down to Derek's hand holding his, what was probably Scott's wrapped around his left shin, Isaac on his shoulder, and a hand that felt suspiciously like Boyd's in his hair. 

He could smell Lydia's lilac-and-linen perfume faintly and hear Erica's slow and measured breathing that meant she didn't want to be scared. "So much for not telling the pack." Stiles wheezed without opening his eyes, though no one was surprised he was awake. 

"Remind me to hit you when you look less like a giant bruise." Lydia's voice spoke of tears. Stiles pried his eyes a little bit open, trying for a smile that pulled and ached. 

"Is my dad okay?" Derek nodded, releasing his hand in order to adjust Stiles until he was comfortably propped up. Stiles licked his lips, wincing slightly, raising his hand to take the water glass Scott produced only to find his wrist in a cast. Derek took the water instead, angling the straw and telling him to drink slowly. "Are you guys alright?" He didn't think the rest of the pack would've gotten there for the throwdown, but Stiles didn't know how long he'd been out while in captivity. 

"We are all perfectly fine apart from having a fucking heart attack when your father called to tell us that you'd been being stalked and that you were in the hospital after having been kidnapped." The ire in Erica's voice was because she loved him. 

"Is Jeff okay?" Stiles asked Derek weakly. Derek nodded, his features twisting in response to the distress in Stiles's throat. Isaac whimpered, and Scott pulled the paler boy in close, tucking him against his body soothingly. "What happened?" 

"Benny got picked up by one of the packs Jeff's been protecting you from. Promised him the bite would help you recognize him as a mate." Stiles snorted quietly, hissing at the pain that caused. Derek's lips twitched, his hand cupping under Stiles's jaw, around his neck, leeching his discomfort away, "They wanted to turn you, but they underestimated us. They thought I wouldn't realize you'd been hurt; that I wouldn't be able to find you. They didn't realize you're my mate, and they really didn't realize how much stronger I am when it comes to you." 

"Either you guys didn't disable my morphine supply before de-paining me, or you just told me I'm your mate." Derek snorted and shook his head at Stiles's confusion, leaning down and kissing him softly, "Oh." 

"You're an idiot." Erica muttered. Derek's eyes widened, jerking away from Stiles with the realization that they really hadn't been on the same page this whole time--they hadn't even been reading the same book. 

"Really, a really very big idiot." Lydia agreed, "You thought it was an act, didn't you?" 

Stiles gaped his mouth open and closed a few times, his hand whipping out--broken or not--to try to stop Derek from moving away from him. "I thought...I just didn't think you'd want…" Stiles swallowed, "If you want me...I want to be…" Derek rolled his eyes so hard Stiles thought he'd knock something loose, but he leaned down and kissed Stiles softly, still draining his pain. Stiles beamed, ignoring Derek's soft scoff. "You're going to yell at me later and feel much better." Stiles assured him. 

"I'm going to yell at you now." 

"Okay." Stiles mumbled cheerily, only unclenching his fingers from their precarious grip on Derek's shirt when Derek reached up to take his hand again, sitting on the edge of his bed, "Can I say first, in my defence, that I have had such a hopeless crush on you that I was blinded by your ungodly perfection and therefore forgot how awesome I am, and that you could love me back?" 

"You know, you're right, I think maybe you are high…" Isaac muttered. 

"Shoo, all of you. Out." Stiles burst, "Go. I need to have a talk with Big Bad, I do not need the pups listening in." 

"Yeah, good luck with that." Lydia sneered, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. 

"Out." Derek barked; the wolves moving immediately and dragging Lydia with them. Derek's hand wrapped around his, "Stiles--"

"Ah! Hear me out! We've been close for years now, yeah. You...we're comfortable. We tell each other more than we do anyone else, right?" Derek nodded, and Stiles could only categorize the look on his face translating to 'duh', "You trust me, and I trust you...and when you told me to date you to send a message to Benny--which is what I took that… _that_ to mean--I thought it was because you are a good man, a great man, and you wanted to keep a friend and confidante safe. There's a chance you would've done this when we still hated each other, but you also probably would've hit me and smashed me into things a lot." 

A pained, almost agonized look crossed over Derek's face, "I will never hit you again." Derek ground out, the fury on his face directed at himself. 

Stiles reached over, tugging on his shirt, "Hey, broody britches, knock it off. I've had worse from actually everyone else. You were the gentlest. Erica knocked me out with a piece of my own car--hell, Lydia opened her locker onto my face to give me a nosebleed when that vampire came in senior year--"

" _She's_ the one that broke your nose?!"

"Derek, calm down. She made me milkshakes and floats and didn't kill me or castrate me when I told her her milkshakes would bring all the boys to the yard. I've forgiven her, and I've forgiven everyone. Especially you." Stiles licked his lips, tired just from existing, "I'm...I'm not good at this. You know I'm not. The first person actively interested in me stalked me and ended up getting turned into a werewolf to try to convince me we were mates and the obsession could be shared. I didn't think that you, Hyperion that you are, would look at me." 

"Stiles, I chose to stay for you. Not because I was worried that you would crash and burn, and not because I ever for a moment thought you were incapable, but because I missed you so much when I was in Beacon Hills that having you here would've killed me to leave." The words were stilted and dragged out of Derek kicking and screaming, but Stiles knew why. He knew that the last person who'd told him they'd loved him he'd had to dig the grave of; he knew the last person he told he loved who wasn't blood had burned his life to the ground and tortured him afterwards. "I'm not anything you make me out to be." 

Stiles snorted, "No, you're much, much more." 

"Then so are you, jackass." 

Stiles made a face. "I think I preferred 'genius', but I can't deny it any more than I could the first one. Come here and kiss me, because apparently I've been an idiot." 

"You want to?" 

"I wanted to that first morning. I've had a crush on you for years, but when you showed up here, I fell head over motherfucking heels." Derek made a small sound, bending in carefully and kissing the words out of Stiles's mouth; out of his mind. "Tell me I'm stuck with you now." 

"You are stuck with me now." Derek promised, kissing his cheek gently, "Go to sleep, genius." 

"You still gonna want me when I wake up?"

Derek's only answer was to press a kiss to the small patch of cast-free skin at the base of his thumb, chaste and sweet and saying everything Stiles never needed to hear. Stiles's mouth pulled into a smile as he fell asleep, safe under Derek's gaze. 

~  
Epilogue  
~

"Stiles, touch that tie one more time--"

"And you'll what? Rip my throat out with your teeth? You forget, I've seen you at three AM all sleep-swollen and angelic and muzzy. You no longer have any ground from which to frighten me." 

"You look _fine_ , Stiles, just calm down!" 

"My dad is getting married to a werewolf, Derek, now is not the time for calm." 

"You've been fine with this relationship for three years!" 

"And I'm still fine with it, but he doesn't know what big babies you guys can be. He--mgnph!...Kissing me to shut me up was off the table." 

"Wasn't to shut you up. Your heartbeat would be freaking you out if you could hear it." 

"...Calming-kisses are allowed, continue." 

"Jackass." 

" _Genius_." 

"You are hopeless." 

"Shut up, broody britches: I'm getting a new daddy today."

"I'm allying two cross-state werewolf packs--Hell, _you're_ allying two cross-state werewolf packs." 

"You're also letting another Alpha live in your territory. They waited so I'd be done school so we'd come back and you could keep tabs on him like your little fuzzyball of an Alpha wants." 

"You got me high on wolf-nip! I wouldn't have cuddled you otherwise!" 

"Oh, please, do not pretend that I am the cuddle monster of this relationship. Lydia will even side with me on this one." 

"Scott and Isaac _stopped talking_ for a week in order to coexist lying with their heads _in your lap_ after they tried to break up." 

"Because you would've knocked their heads together for being oversensitive jerkwads instead of babbling about the history of circumcision until they were at the point of agony that overcame whatever it was they tried to break up over. Ah, there's my happy wolf." 

"I cringed and was cockblocked for an entire week, and you are a horrible mate, but it did turn out slightly entertaining in hindsight."

"Ah, see? Silver lining. Think we have time for a sixty-nine, or--Hi, Dad!" 

Getting smacked over the back of the head by his father was totally worth seeing Derek Stilinski-Hale blush again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all of my lovely readers who've gotten me here: in honour of hitting the ten-thousand hit count, I wrote a sequel found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/730019
> 
> Thank you and good night, my lovelies!


End file.
